


Then & Now

by 6xqb9u004n



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Character Study, Even-centric, F/M, M/M, POV Second Person, Pre-Series, Suicide Attempt, okay it's only even/sonja bc it's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 09:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11711883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6xqb9u004n/pseuds/6xqb9u004n
Summary: You’re 19 when you meet a boy.He has curly blonde hair and an endless collection of snapbacks and the most adorable gaps in his smile. You see him on your second first day of third year and something inside you flutters.





	Then & Now

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear with me, thanks
> 
> :)

**I.**

_“the main characters have to die or else the love story won’t be epic”_

You’re 15 when you watch your first Baz Luhrmann movie. You just started dating Sonja and her parents are out of town, so she invites you over to watch _Moulin Rouge!_ and spend the night. You end up accidentally ignoring her, too engrossed in the film to pay attention to her trying to kiss and touch you.

You don’t spend the night either. Instead, you rush home to watch all of Baz Luhrmann’s movies, not even stopping to take a break. Afterwards, you lie in your bed wide awake, despite having been up for over 24 hours, staring at the ceiling in awe. That day, you decide that Baz Luhrmann is your favorite director and that you want to become a director. You decide you want to fall in love and have an epic love story, one that must end in tragedy, just like Romeo and Juliet’s or Christian and Satine’s. You briefly wonder if Sonja could be The One.

**II.**

_“it’s you and your head, and all of your thoughts_  
_because there’s only you and your thoughts, you know_  
_you can’t escape your thoughts  
_ _the only way is to die”_

You’re 18 when you wake up in a strange room, with harsh lighting and smelling strongly of antiseptic. You’re filled with disappointment immediately, because you’re in the hospital. And if you’re in the hospital, it means you’re still alive.

In the span of sixteen days, you’ve managed to make a move on your best friend (and get rejected), try to ‘pray the gay away’ (and fail), and attempt to commit suicide (and survive). 

Nurses attend to you constantly, coming in to check your IV, take your breakfast tray, and bring your parents during guest hours. You don’t ask about the friends that never visit.

A few days later, the psychiatrist diagnoses you as bipolar type I. Congratulations, you’re number 1. The past two weeks — the ones spent memorizing the Quran in Arabic and culminating in you swallowing a bottle of pills — were a manic episode, your very first. 

You learn that being sad, so sad that you struggle to get out of bed and eat and talk for three weeks straight, is not normal. Turns out it’s clinical depression. 

_With medication and therapy, you can expect to lead a healthy, productive life_ , your psychiatrist reassures you. _Your early diagnosis means we can try to limit your manic episodes to hypomania, or better yet, no symptoms at all._

You stare at her with a scowl on your face, because she’s making it sound like you’re lucky when you’re anything but.

—

Sonja stays by your side, even after all that, and you begin to think that she’s not The One after all. You once told Mikael that someone had to die in order for a love story to be epic. You were only half-joking. 

You’re convinced, now more than ever despite extensive talk therapy, that you’re destined for a tragic ending.

You know you’ll end up hurting Sonja, but she refuses to leave you, and your story seems never-ending. Your relationship is familiar and stable and everything your life needs right now, and yet you’re suffocating.

**III.**

_“you know the only way to have something for infinite time is by losing it”_

You’re 19 when you meet a boy. 

He has curly blonde hair and an endless collection of snapbacks and the most adorable gaps in his smile. You see him on your second first day of third year and something inside you flutters. You follow him to some dumb kosegruppa meeting and lure him outside to share a joint. 

His name is Isak.

You fall for him, hard and fast, forgetting for a while about your girlfriend (she still hasn’t left your side) and your disease and the fact that you know you’ll end up breaking his heart. 

He tells you about parallel universes and the idea is intriguing, but you still prefer your theory. You still desperately need to be the director of your own life. So you purposefully stop taking your medication and listening to Sonja, instead drinking beer and smoking weed and kissing that beautiful, beautiful boy, to prove to the world that you, Even Bech Næsheim, are still in control.

You feel magnificent and glorious and in love, and the prospect of your epic love story becomes real once again.

You lie in bed, stroking Isak’s eyebrow and cheek and hair and ear, watching him watch you with sleepy eyes. You find yourself asking him about those parallel universes and how many of you there must be out there, lying just as you are now. 

_Infinite_ , he responds.

And in a moment of remarkable clarity and honesty, you tell him that infinity only exists in loss, but he doesn’t like that, so you lie and tell him you’re only joking. 

**IV.**

_“a different place in the universe we are together for all eternity, remember that”_

You’re nearly 20 when you end up fucking everything up. 

You were right after all. But you begin to think that maybe an epic love story is not so great after all, because you miss Isak, but mostly you feel sorry for him. 

You’ve broken up and your love is anything but infinite. It’s only been a day, but he’s becoming more distant with every minute that passes, and you wonder how long it’ll be before you can’t remember his features or how it feels to have his warm body pressed against yours. You’ve lost Isak forever, and it feels pretty fucking shitty.

—

You text him to apologize and to remind him of the other Evens and Isaks out there, existing in parallel universes, hopefully living happier lives. You think you finally understand what Isak meant that smoke-filled morning. 

**V.**

You’re 22 when you finally realize you were full of shit back then. You’re still full of shit (or so Isak reminds you daily with a sweet kiss) but decidedly less so. Nothing has changed really, but in many ways, everything has.

You still love Baz Luhrmann and you’ll always love _Moulin Rouge!_ and _Romeo + Juliet_ and all those other cliché love stories. How could you ever not love the camp and melodrama and tackiness of it all?

You’re still sick and probably will be for the rest of your life. There are still days when you wake up and find that lead has replaced your blood and looking at the light really fucking hurts. And there are still days when you’re feeling euphoric and easily distracted, yet somehow incredibly focused despite only getting two hours of sleep.

He doesn’t say it, but you think that Isak still tries to save you. He doesn’t get as drunk or high as he used to, because he knows it’s bad for you and he doesn’t want you to feel left out. He keeps a constant, watchful eye on your mood and behavior, always anticipating your next mood swing. You know he can’t ever save you— not truly — but you’re okay with that, because you know that love, even the kind that you and Isak share, cannot cure chemical imbalances.

—

Some things only modern medicine can cure, or at the very best, temporarily fix. You take pills. Lots of little pills. You keep them in a plastic container with seven separate compartments, one for each day of the week.

Every Sunday, Isak watches you as you refill it, opening each lid and carefully dropping in each pill.

_What’s that one for?_ Isak asked the very first time.

Lithium, a mood stabilizer.

_What about that tiny white one?_

Seroquel, an antipsychotic.

_And that one?_

Klonopin, to help with the anxiety.

_And those?_

You looked up and grinned at him. A multivitamin, to keep your muscles strong. You flexed, looking like the world’s skinniest body builder, and you both laughed.

—

Now, you prefer tragic love stories strictly on the silver screen.

Now, you dutifully take your medication and try to get seven hours of sleep every night(which is rather difficult considering how horny your boyfriend is) and eat a balanced diet.

You try very hard to stay as healthy as possible, because you no longer believe that only losing or dying can lead to love that lasts forever.

You try very hard to stay as healthy as possible, because you don’t care if parallel universes exist and there’s an infinite number of Evens and Isaks together for eternity. 

You try very hard to stay as healthy as possible, because while you may not live forever, you decide you want to be around for many, many years.

Because all that matters is _this_ universe and all you want is _your_ Isak for as long as possible. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope this was enjoyable!


End file.
